


Ready for Daddy

by ittybittytidbits



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cock Warming, DDLG, Daddy Kink, F/M, Multi, Overstimulation, Polyamory, Sex Toys, Sort Of, Vaginal Fingering, erwin and mike have themselves a bratty princess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26934553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ittybittytidbits/pseuds/ittybittytidbits
Summary: Daddy Erwin's out of town and won't be back until tomorrow. You refuse to sleep until he's home. Luckily, Papa Mike has plenty of experience dealing with brats.
Relationships: Erwin Smith & Reader, Erwin Smith/Mike Zacharias, Erwin Smith/Mike Zacharias/Reader, Erwin Smith/Reader, Mike Zacharias & Reader, Mike Zacharias/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 128





	Ready for Daddy

Two twenty-three a.m. 

All around you was bedding in all forms of rumpled ease. You lay on your side, on your left arm, half curled, pillow between your knees, the end of it worried in your mouth. Damp with spit. 

The body behind you breathed quietly, motionless but for the hand trailing from the elastic of your sleeping shorts to over the curve of your hip. Fingertips skimmed down your bottom to land, in pinpricks of warmth, under the cusp of your ass. 

You sighed; wriggled back. The explorer found the crotch of your panties, sailed right past it, and moved back up to burrow under the skimpy leg of your shorts.

“It’s past your bedtime, sweetheart.”

You blinked at the glaring laptop in front of you. The motion came heavy but you were determined to stay awake.

“I know.”

The hint of a frown crossed the image on the screen - golden, god-like. Pristine. Perfect. Your knees tightened around the pillow between them. You bit down on its soggy corner. 

“You have to go to bed sometime. Preferably soon.” The voice you knew so well - and loved so well - came hollow and staticky through the speakers. You missed its original, rich timbre. “If you don’t, you’ll be dead tired in the morning. Look, your eyes are already watering.”

You blinked hard. “They’re not -” But the hand stroking your thigh had made its way up, floating to cup your chin, tilting it and your head backwards until you caught the green gaze of its owner. You swatted feebly at his arm. 

“Let go.”

He frowned, swiped at the moisture beading at the corners of your lashes, and did as he was asked. 

“Go to sleep,” the golden figure in the screen sighed. “Please?”

“I can’t!” You thumped your pillow and tore its corner from your mouth. It came free with a fabric pop. The bear behind you clicked his tongue, reached over, and wrapped his paw around your angry little fist. “I can’t sleep without Daddy!”

That elicited twin sighs. _Daddy_ raised his eyes to the heavens as his counterpart spooned himself around you, gathering you, pillow, and all, into the concave nest of his body. “Be good,” his warning rumbled against the back of your head.

Daddy was more forgiving. “Darling,” he cooed, “you slept just fine the last two nights I was away. What’s different now?”

You snuffled piteously. “Tonight you’re coming back home. I’m too excited for morning I can’t sleep.”

“Oh, baby.”

The huffs of breath behind you vibrated into laughter.

“Mike, you’re encouraging her!”

“Sorry.” A shaggy blond head poked out of the darkness into the light of the screen, smiled for a moment at the three of you, then swooped down to rub his chin against your temple in a scratchy kiss. 

“Papa!” you squealed, pedaling down and shoving your arms up against the onslaught. He caught you by the waist, rolled his bulk over you, and peppered you with kisses until you were wheezing with laughter. Only then did he pull away, raking shaggy hair back, completely pleased with himself.

While you caught your breath, he dragged himself back up within full view of the camera, propped a cheek on the heel of his palm, and said, “We’ve been at this goodnight and goodbye for half an hour now. Erwin, haven’t you missed your plane yet?”

He received a bland smile in return. “I’m about to. Babygirl -”

Nestled against the muscles of Mike’s stomach and clutching his arm in lieu of your discarded pillow, you craned your neck up towards the voice. “Yes, Daddy?”

“We’ll be boarding soon. I really have to go.”

“No.” Breathy. So horrified the gentle scratching at your belly did nothing to soothe you.

“Yes. I have to get on my plane if I’m to be home with you in the morning.”

“No -” Choking in your odd position, you slumped down, flopped onto your stomach, and swam up to Mike’s level, blocking him entirely from the camera as you clutched the laptop with both hands. “You can’t leave me.”

You knew - you just knew - that the moment Daddy left, Papa would drop off. Then you’d be left all alone to stare at the funny shadows on the ceiling, one third of your bed - to your left - empty but for the laptop and cold for the absence of its usual occupant.

“‘Darling, I’m coming home to you -”

It’d be like that until sunrise, when you’d then have to watch the world lighten behind the curtains without having had a wink of sleep; when you’d have to watch the morning dawn with only the hum of the airconditioner for company.

The dread was already bubbling.

“Daddy, I’ll cry if you go!”

“No!” He gasped, aghast. Wide baby blues swivelled to laughing green ones. “Mike, do something!”

“Uh-oh.” Came from somewhere behind you. A pair of arms snaked around to coax the laptop free of your grip. In the little box on the screen, yours and Mike’s faces, dimly illuminated, came into view again, yours pouting and his growing grim.

Erwin was already lecturing. “You really should have taken this more seriously.”

Groaning long and loud, Mike dragged you down with himself as he flopped backwards onto his mountain of pillows. “Erwin, please, can’t you let me off this time? I am _so_ sleepy -”

“You have a responsibility -”

“Weren’t you always bragging about her being Daddy’s girl?”

“To which you insisted that she’s Papa’s angel.”

“Erwiiiiinnn…”

“Mike.”

Tumbling off of Mike, you looked between him and Erwin. Mike was on his way to dreamland, eyes shut and forearm tossed over them. Erwin, on the other hand, was leaning towards the camera, visibly agitated, his brows furrowed and lips pursed in a straight line. 

Slowly, you sat up. “Papa?” you whispered.

No response. He didn’t move; didn’t make even the tiniest sound. You shifted towards him, lay a hand on his steadily rising and falling chest, and tried again.

“Papa?” The words wobbled. You sucked in the promise of tears. “Papa, am I in the way? Don’t you love me anymore?” Your voice cracked.

Mike’s eyes flew open. His head shot up and he rose on an elbow. “No, Angel, of course I love you -”

Then he caught Erwin’s smirking face over your shoulder. “Good to know you’re still up.”

His gaze swivelled to where you mirrored Daddy’s triumphant smile.

“As long as you’re awake,” Erwin went on, gathering his things and getting ready to stand, “Take care of our baby girl. Put her to bed. Make sure she gets enough sleep.” He smiled much too indulgently at you. “Goodnight, lovely. I’ll bring you back a present. See you in the morning.”

And the call window winked out.

Mike narrowed his eyes at your innocently fluttering lashes. “You naughty girl. You naughty, _sneaky_ girl. You and your Daddy both.”

“Well, now that you’re up, you might as well stay up with me.” You bounced on folded legs, smoothing and petting the fluffy bedding with the most unrepentant, most impish, shit-eating grin on your face.

He frowned, reaching across you for the laptop. “I will do no such thing.” It shut with a quiet click. The room plunged into a darkness broken only by the negligible glow of the nightlight stuffed in some unobtrusive corner.

“But you can’t go to sleep without me! Daddy said -”

“I know what Daddy said.” You heard him shuffle around in the darkness. The next thing you knew, Mike was pulling you down beside himself, nudging your sprawl into the middle of the bed, retrieving your pillow with a soggy corner (not without a repulsed grunt and a quiet muttering about having to wash so many pillows in one week) -

“At least we always have fresh pillows -”

“Yes, yes. At the very least, there’s that -” And dragging the duvet over the both of you. “ _We_ are going to sleep.”

“But I told you: I can’t!”

“You can.” Making himself comfortable, he slung an arm over your middle and tucked you under his chin. “Be quiet now and close your eyes like a good girl.” Already, you were hearing his happy anticipation of a good night’s hibernation.

You sniffled.

“Try it. Go on. For Papa.” He held you fast.

You supposed you could. For Papa.

Sighing, you closed your eyes and forced yourself to relax, recalling guided meditation instructionals and following along as best as you could. After a while, between the quiet, the cold beyond the duvet and the toasty warmth underneath it and Mike’s comforting bulk snoozing beside you, it began to seem like you were going to fall asleep.

Already, you were feeling weightless.

Any time now.

Any moment now. 

Your breaths were perfectly even and you’d even begun to dream of Erwin’s arrival; of driving to the airport, jumping out of the passenger seat before Mike could park, spotting your favourite blond head above the crowds, jumping into Daddy’s arms, hugging him and being hugged in turn while he and Papa exchanged a quick peck, demanding one for yourself and being showered in kisses instead -

The air conditioner popped.

You jumped out of your skin, jerking awake with a whine. Beside you, startled out of sleep, Mike groaned groggily and rubbed his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” His voice was thick with drowsiness.

You grumbled an incomprehensible complaint.

“Do you want your teddy?” Wood rang as he smacked his arm against the bed frame in his fumbling. “Aw, fu-”

You tossed, now scrabbling away, now pressing against him in an attempt to find that magical spot that would get you instantly asleep. You only succeeded only in frustrating yourself.

“I really can’t sleep!”

“Oh, baby.”

Rolling face down, you huffed into the sheets. “Sorry, Papa. I know you’re tired.”

The mattress dipped. Mike scooted towards you. Rubbing your arm, he murmured against your naked shoulder, “You poor thing. Let me try to help you, hm?”

Twisting around, you squinted up at his silhouette - really all you could see in the darkness. “How?”

He hummed. “I’ve a couple of ideas.” Shifting you onto your back, he slid an arm under your shoulders and scooped you against himself. “Relax. Close your eyes.” A butterfly kiss on your brow, followed by a pair more on your eyelids, did the trick. You sagged against him.

“Good girl,” he practically purred, free hand kneading your knee skiing under and up your shirt. Nippy air whispered over your denuded belly. You shivered for the hot hand palming your breasts, tossed your head, and got a mouthful of Mike’s chest. 

You moaned. He knew just where to touch and how, trapping nipples between fingers, tweaking and caressing until you moaned into his clavicle and arched to lick a stripe up his throat, swallowing the rumble of gentle laughter.

“You’re going to fuck me to sleep, aren’t you?” Expectant. Your hips wriggled eagerly against the mattress.

“No,” he kissed your brow, the warmth of his fingers traipsing down your bare sternum to dip under your shorts. “I’m too tired for that tonight. But I can give you this at least -” Pressure dragged down your cunt and you started as a finger nestled between its lips. Mike hummed as he rubbed you, now and then raking short nails over the soft, clothed flesh. 

“Feel good?”

“Yes.” Strangled.

“Deep breaths.” Nuzzling down your cheek, he tongued at your thrumming pulse, sinking his teeth only to let go to lathe the indented skin. Below, his fingers mimicked the motions, dipping beneath your underwear, stroking along your aching pussy and gathering its juices to tease your clit with a slippery digit. 

Your heels dug into the bed, bottom lifting, hips canting in your best effort to impale yourself on him. You felt yourself throb from need and wailed impatience.

Mike was in no hurry. The left hand curled around your body scratched idly along the faint contours of your straining ribs, now and then reaching up to brush the underside of the nearest accessible breast. His right hand seemed intent on slicking itself completely with your juices. 

Goosebumps bloomed all over your skin. You hiccuped, reached down to put a stop to the teasing and to literally take matters into your own hands.

Mike sank into you.

The scream stuck in your throat.

He’d gone no further than a little more than the tip of two fingers and already you were clenching around him, a shivering and panting mess of desire. 

“More,” you croaked, cracking your eyes open and seeing nothing but bleary dimness through the fog of your lust. Your nether regions were aflame, sensitive with anticipation and swollen with arousal, and you felt keenly the bit of finger that probed there, in and then out, twisting, dilating oh-so-tenderly, and in then out again. 

Your brain had become a heart, and it pounded animal instinct between your ears. 

“Papa.” Your voice was a rasp. You’d dug your nails into his arm and held it in place, right between your legs. “Papa, more.”

He withdrew. Squeezed the tit under his left palm. “More it is.”

Kicking the blanket off, he tore himself free of your hold, ripped your shorts and panties off you, and smacked your bare ass. A sticky hand danced up the back of your thigh as he leaned down to meet your lips for a long draught.

“Darling, spread your knees for Papa.”

You obeyed with a moan. A muscled forearm twined around your calf, lifted it, and slung it over his leg. The seam of your groin was a slimy mess. He revelled in it, painting patterns with it all over the silk of your inner thighs.

The sigh spilling into his mouth was the sweetest he’d ever tasted. 

Wandering fingers found their way back, slipping along the crests of your lusting pussy, visiting, for a rub, a pinch or two, with your clit before diving down to your wet, inviting warmth.

You groaned. Slow kisses turned brisk. Brisk kisses turned into short pecks that grew more forceful. He nipped at your parted lips and explored, bathing teeth and sucking tongue as he entered you with his ring finger, pumping carefully to the tune of hard kisses.

Your head - your heart - your head-heart, spun. From somewhere in the tense throes of approaching climax, you heard your piteous sounds, swallowed them, thrashed, and bucked up with a cry when the rough pad of Mike’s thumb swiped at your clit.

He pulled back to watch you. Raised himself on an elbow to peer down at you - at the silhouette of your form - writhe where he’d let you drop back onto the bed. He still had a handful of your cunt, and he still held your splayed legs open.

He wasn’t done. 

Sinking beside you, he murmured incomprehensibles against naked, salty skin. Above the drone of the air conditioner, the tangy musk of your sex swirled with the cold air. He indulged in a lungful, decided he hadn’t had enough, slid lower, and inhaled with his face pressed between your breasts. You whined, squirming against the tickle of his facial hair, and he shushed you, slopping his digit out of your leaking cunt to replace it with the drag of knuckles. 

You settled down with a sigh. Hands combed through his hair. He was more than happy to suckle at your tits. 

Knuckles prodded at your opening. You tensed; tightened. He toyed with your clit. Slid one, then two fingers in succession, pumped, and curled. 

Electric pleasure jolted from his touch. Your back lifted. A nipple thrust straight into the roof of his mouth. He sucked it to bruising, scissored inside your cunt, and found his mark. 

Then he was relentless, bent fingers rubbing and stroking. Heat crept from your belly to your chest, and from your chest to your neck to pool, finally, on your cheeks. He shifted, rose, spilling you across the sheets, your arms thrown left and right, bent knees splayed open. 

A second hand spread your pussy, fondling the softer, sensitive inner folds. You convulsed with the throes of near-orgasm.

Mike crammed a third finger into you. 

You choked on a moan, ass instinctively shuffling to accommodate the extra stretch. He was reaching so deep and stuffing you so well. Tingling urgency crawled all over you. Your abdomen tightened and breaths hitched.

“Angel,” he rumbled, “it’s all right. You can come.” From either side of your clit, his fingers squeezed together. A fingernail scraped down your bud.

You squealed. The pressure burst. Relief flooded you and you clenched around your Papa, greedy cunt milking the satisfying fill of his fingers. As you spasmed beneath him, he bore down on your clit, rubbing hard and fast, shooting you back up to climax in wave after wave of unbearable stimulation.

You didn’t even hear yourself scream.

When the foam of pleasure ebbed, you were spent, the sheets underneath you damp with sweat and the trickle of body fluids. You lay with your eyes closed, throat raw and tits heaving, trying to catch your breath.

Mike was still touching you, though languidly this time, running slick fingers between and around your folds to draw out the last of your orgasm. You hummed contentedly, tried to help him along, found that you could barely rock your hips, gave up, and left him to it.

“Happy?” He sounded much too pleased with himself.

You couldn’t begrudge him that and replied with a mumbled assent. He worked a finger inside you again, experimentally pumping in and out before removing himself completely. You ignored him. You were ready to sleep. Your body had gone slack and you were already drifting.

Somewhere in the sated fringes of semi-consciousness, Mike melted into nothing more than a warm, moving mass, flitting about, laying down towels and pushing back your hair. You were pliant, and let him move you to a cool, dry part of the bed. With happy noises, you stretched out and made to curl up on your side when you felt him sink into Erwin’s side of the bed and nudge your legs apart.

Heavy limbs could not even try to push him away. Something soft, but firm, poked at your entrance, swirled itself with your wetness, and opened you anew. You groaned. “No more, Papa. You said you were tired.” 

“I am,” came the response, thick with the promise of lust. “But you can take this.” His hot hands, sticky with your come, pushed your legs up. Whatever he had between them strained for a moment at the mouth of your pussy, then breached your tightly clenched cunt. You jolted at the sensation, whimpering as first the head, then the rest of it, dragged inside you. 

“Does it hurt?” 

It was warm, but not hot with Mike’s usual body heat, and did not reach quite as deep as his cock. 

“No…”

He thrust it a few times, letting you adjust to the intrusion before pushing it all the way in. It came to a halt with the sensation of cold silicone against your pussy. He let your legs back down and massaged between your hip bones.

“How’s it feel?”

You clamped around the toy and tried to wiggle. Though smaller than the ones he and Erwin usually used on you, it fit snugly and was sufficiently filling, and conformed to your body when you moved.

“Good?”

“Great.” Crowding beside you, he kissed your forehead, plopped your pillow (with its crusty corner) onto your stomach, and dragged the blankets over the both of you. The toy jostled when you tried to lay on your side. Rubbing your legs together, you shimmied down, found Mike’s lap, and ground against him in an effort to relieve the urge to rut.

He swatted your bum. “Stop that. Go to sleep.”

“With _this_ inside me?”

“Yes.”

“Papa!” That was a whine if ever Mike knew one. Throwing both arms and legs over you to immobilize you, he brought his soiled fingers to your mouth. You wrinkled your nose before catching on. And when you did, you engulfed them in your moist mouth, lapping them clean in an effort to rile Mike up.

He was unmoved.

You spat out his fingers. “Papa, have mercy.”

The limbs around you only tightened. “That’s what you get for playing tricks on Papa. Hold that toy inside you. You need to be ready for Daddy when we go pick him up in the morning.”

You whined. “How long do I have to keep this in?”

“Until I or Daddy takes it out.”

“That’s mean!” And to make your point, you bit him.

He pinched your nose. “Go to sleep. Any more of that naughtiness and I’ll have Daddy punish you.”

You huffed, but relented. Even with the comfort of being enveloped in Mike, and the soft breaths of his slumber above you, your drowsiness had permanently gone. The blasted toy sat much too distractingly inside you.

Across the room, the blank wall was aglow with the feeble electric flame of the nightlight somewhere. Behind you, beyond the dark curtains and outside the windows, you were sure the world was lightening. 

You squinted at the dimness. The squint turned into a glare.

Sleep was definitely not going to happen to you tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober 2020 entry? I had no plans to, but this wouldn't leave me alone until it was posted. 
> 
> The challenge for this piece was to write immersive erotica. Please let me know how I did! :)
> 
> Also, who else thinks Erwin would be such a whipped daddy that Mike has to take over discipline duties? x'D


End file.
